


A Sliver of Moonlight

by Stormxx



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Animal Death, Blood and Injury, F/M, Major Character Injury, Reader-Insert, Sexual Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Violence, Wolves, reader gets hurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:34:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27712099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stormxx/pseuds/Stormxx
Summary: Life is pretty boring serving for the slowly decaying villa in the countryside of Toussaint. It's when a Witcher comes clamoring into your life that it all changes.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Reader
Comments: 5
Kudos: 47





	A Sliver of Moonlight

**Author's Note:**

> This follows the game's storyline of Witcher 3 , specifically the Blood & Wine DLC which was probably the best extra content for a game ever. There are no spoilers, just some hinting towards events at the beginning. 
> 
> I wrote this so long ago and it was the first time something had seemed to have written itself so effortlessly. I've held onto it for a good while (been about a year?) but wanted to finally share it. I don't know if I could do another chapter, but I'll see if the mood strikes me again. Hope you like it!

The estate known as Corvo Bianco Vineyard had been your home since you could remember. Your parents had grown tired of the cold in Skellige when you were but a babe and had made the journey to the endless heat and beautiful landscapes of Toussant. Years had come and gone and with those years so did the owners of the Vineyard. You went from plucking grapes to planting olive trees to tending the grounds as the owners made one financial mistake after another. Where once was beautiful herb gardens there was now only crumbling leaves and rotting wood, the stables were now empty and the once beautiful main house began to peel and fall apart. The last owner had dumped all his coin into just keeping the Vineyard afloat and when he couldn’t anymore handed it off to the Duchess, who luckily saw it fit enough to still need the workers. 

No longer needed for picking the Vineyard stock you were tasked to look for herbs for the cooking staff. Even with spending most of your days in the sweltering summer heat searching for various herbs you were thankful, especially since you had gained a new found interest in Alchemy. How a certain concoction could heal wounds or cure illnesses fascinated you to no end and you were desperate for more of that knowledge. 

When the whispers of the Beast of Toussant emerged you were hesitant. Whispers of the beast deep in the cellars of Corvo Bianco spiked your interest a little too much. All the workers on the estate stayed far away, sometimes in the night you could hear it scrape its claws against the stone, sending shivers down your spine. Your novice knowledge of alchemical things made it impossible to even research any kind of repellent against the beast, not like it would help since not a soul knew what the beast actually was. 

One warm night it came, hissing and slashing through the Duchesses guardsmen as it barreled back into its den as you watched shaking from your chamber. It was terrifying as it moved, slashing and gnawing at the duchesses men as if they were nothing more than paper. All hope seemed lost until a man clad in black with a sword so bright it seemed to hold the moon, silver no doubt, made his way after the monster. His hair as white as his blade and yes, you were sure of it, even from your bedroom there was no mistaking those golden eyes. A Witcher. 

Never before had you seen one, your heart leapt at the thought. They were master swordsmen and even better alchemists , expert monster hunters in every way. You had no doubt he would be the one to slay the monster of Toussant .With bated breath you waited for the silver haired man to emerge victorious, tapping your fingers against the windowsill in nervous excitement. Just when you thought maybe the Witcher had fallen prey to the beast a flash of white hair stepped out into the moonlit night once again. 

However before you could get a good look at him he was gone from sight, riding off on a dark horse into the warm night air. You sighed, noting the amount of bloodshed and work that awaited the villa in the morning.

That night you tossed and turned, dreams filled with the man they call the Witcher.

After the gorey cleanup you stomached with a handful of other workers the following day, all was quiet. No beast stirred from the depths of the vineyard and it seemed like life would continue just as boring as it had been before you set eyes on that White Wolf. 

You heard it from one of the kitchen maids first. A new owner was on their way with the deed to Corvo Bianco! It was hard to remember the last time the estate had ever been governed, which made you both nervous and excited at the same time. Curious of the new owner you wanted to get a good look when they came striding down the street. 

Busying yourself with some wild mint that grew from the picket by the road you waited, peering up every few minutes to keep an eye out. The sounds of hooves beating against the stone pulled you from your harvesting as you watched in awe as he neared. The Witcher. The Witcher was head of the estate at Corvo Bianco? Your jaw clenched to keep from hanging as he strode by, yellow cat-like eyes regarding you for merely a second before he continued towards the main house. So it was true! 

Your fellow workers were… less enthused about the new owner. Most just scoffed and went about their work, while others tossed around names you’d never heard before but were sure they were not meant endearingly towards the Witcher. 

You found him interesting. Knowing very little about them you were less inclined to see them as sub-humans as most others seemed to suggest. If anything he just seemed… exotic. And there was no denying that what you had seen of him so far was attractive. 

The smell of fresh mint tickled your nose, peering down to see you’d driven your nails into its soft leaves, pushing the smell into the air. Surely the main quarters kitchen would need some for dinner tonight, a perfect excuse to learn more about the Witcher. The servant entrance was easy enough to slip into, silently greeting the cook who pushed her finger against her lips as you entered. Laughing softly you both listened in. 

The Majordomo introduced himself but you weren't prepared for what came next. The deep timbre of the man who spoke nearly knocked you sideways from just a mere greeting. That was definitely … not what you had expected, but not that you were complaining. 

The rest was fairly boring conversation which explained the updates needed for the estate to which the Witcher stood silently and listened. 

“He’s called the White Wolf.” The cook whispered with a cheeky grin, “ Arrived in Toussant only a few days ago on orders for the Duchess.”. 

“Imelda, you are shameless!” You teased as she smiled, “How do you find this out so quickly?”. 

“Advantages of working in the main house kitchen, my dear. ” she said with a wink. “Here child, take this bowl of fruit and set it in the dining room for me , would you?” 

Squinting at her smile you took the small bowl of fruit from the table, taking a deep breath before opening the door and stepping into the center room. Walking around you saw the Majordomo first, dark circular glasses facing you. The Witcher had his back towards you, listening as the Majordomo spoke, shoulders square and standing much taller than you first would have thought. His silver hair was shoulder length and lay against the metal chain padding across his broad shoulders. You must’ve been staring because the Majordomo coughed, shocking you out of your daydreaming, prompting the Witcher to turn to see the disturbance. 

His golden irises met your own, the slits of his pupils striking as they flared in the firelight. It was impossible to speak while caught in his gaze as he examined you silently. His light brows furrowed , proud nose flaring as he peered down at the fruit bowl you undoubtedly had in a death grip. His grizzled face split into a wry grin as his armored hand reached into the bowl and plucked out an apple. “Thanks.” He spoke flatly, holding the apple up with a slight nod of his head. 

You didn’t speak, you couldn’t. You felt trapped, entranced even. Instead you nodded back before hastily placing the bowl down on the dining table. 

“I’d like to work on revitalizing the herb garden first.” The deep thrum of the Witcher’s voice bounced off the barren walls. The very mention of the herb garden had you turned on your heels to meet the steely cat-like gaze once again. 

The Majordomo nodded excitedly as the Witcher handed over the coin, “That is a good start, sir!” he added in cheerfully, “Y/N here is our closest thing to an herbalist, surely she wouldn’t mind picking up the necessary ingredients.” 

The Witchers creased eyebrows flicked slightly in a mute expression of surprise, “So you know herbs, hm?” his gritty voice almost seemed amused. 

“Y-yes.” You spoke finally, a small smirk lined his features, peeking out over a white beard. He let out a chuckle that seemed almost cold, “So tell me then, how does one harvest Ribleaf?”. 

The question almost made you laugh. You weren’t professionally trained but certainly not that much of a novice. It surprised even you how confidently the words left your mouth, “Cut from the bottom of the stock, try to pluck or remove from any other point and it’s practically useless.”. 

If the Witcher was impressed he was damn good at not showing it. “Very good.” His deep voice bellowed in an even tone, eyes studying you even still. “I’ll leave it to you then.” Was all he managed before he turned for the exit.

Hastily you turned to exit through the kitchen, so caught up in thought you didn’t catch the Witcher’s eyes trail after you as he exited into the sunlight. Imelda was already smiling as you closed the door behind, trying hard not to laugh at your flustered expression, “So? How is the famous White Wolf?” she said lightly, stirring the soup she’d been working on. 

“Almost as intimidating as staring down a Gryphon.” You breathed out, mind still reeling from that look. Whatever Imelda said next was lost on you, mind still lingering on the golden irises that seemed to read your mind. Could Witchers read minds? Gods, you hoped not. It was amazing how quickly the workers began tending the Herb Garden as soon as the White Wolf forked over the funds. The Majordomo followed suit and bid the Witcher farewell before the armor-clad warrior mounted his steed and took off into another great adventure no doubt. You heaved a heavy sigh, almost jealous that his life seemed so filled with adrenaline whilst you sat around most days picking ingredients or tending to the ground's needs. The Majordomo turned to you quickly, withdrawing a list from his little notebook, “Ah, there you are! Here is the list. Please go into town and gather these seeds and plants from an Alchemist.” he finished by dropping a good sum of gold into your open palm , eyes widening at the weight in your hand. You had never held so much gold in your life. 

“Do you wish for me to go now?” You tried not to sound ungrateful, for any chance to go into town was a welcomed one, but half a day's walk nonetheless. 

“Preferably while the day is still young.” He spoke with a high dialect. 

“Of course.” You said without a pip of disobedience, you’d walked those roads before and with a knife strapped across your thigh you were confident you could make it there and back. 

You grabbed a sizable satchel and placed a good amount of gold in several hidden pockets, just in case. Luckily it was much cooler this morning than it had been all week, the smell of grass and ripening fruit blowing through your tresses as you set off up the hill. The walk to Beauclair was long and uneventful. You stopped briefly here and there to take a break or spotting a herb that was marked on the list , finding it easier to pluck than spend the extra gold for it in town. The Quiet of rolling hills slowly gave away to idle chatter of the city, smells quickly turning sweet to sour, always was a stark contrast to the countryside life. You enjoyed the capitol but the rose-tint seemed to fade quickly while within its walls. Spotting the Alchemists shop sign you weaved in and out of beggars and Duchesses men alike, Rich and poor mingling into a sea of endless faces. There was only one word for the crowds of people, overwhelming. 

The shop was a cozy hideaway, empty save for the shopkeeper and her wares. The smell of incense wafted into the air , its smoke crowding at the ceiling, mingling with the earthy smell of plants. Greeting her plainly you read off the list and examined the herbs thoroughly before making a sale, walking back into the late afternoon sun a few gold coins lighter but with quite a sizable workload to haul back. The thought crossed your mind to stop by one of the taverns and have a refresher before returning, with your own coin of course, but you knew if you waited much longer night would fall on your journey back and that’s the last thing you wanted. 

All tension faded with the chatter as cobblestone streets gave way to dirt roads and open fields once again. It was nice to breathe without feeling boxed in. Your steps were slower this time, sweat rolling down your temples as the bag seemed to only gain weight with every passing minute. You stopped, pulling the small glass container of water you’d stored away and took a few refreshing gulps before totting the satchel over your shoulders and continued on. At this pace you may not make it back to Corvo Bianco before nightfall and the thought alone made your stomach sink. 

It was an arduous journey back home, cursing yourself for picking up a few extra things as the leather strap bit into your shoulder. You guessed you maybe had another hour to go before you could finally unburden yourself, but dusk was nipping at your ankles. Trying to take your mind off the weight you looked out into lushious fields, grateful that the journey had been void of monsters when you saw it. The long stalks of red poking out in a lone field was like an oasis in the desert. Eyes lighting up you stared in disbelief, taking a few extra seconds to confirm what you’d seen. It was Winter Cherry. One of the rarest herbs to come across, something not even the Alchemist shop had in stock. Your heart swelled, remembering the many benefits you’d read not so long ago on your last trip to Beauclaire. 

Hoisting the bag higher you set out towards the plant, long blades of grass tickling your ankles and knees, the patch of land long forgotten. You withdrew the blade from your stocking strap, thumbing the blade over the leaves of the rare plant, remembering that the Alchemy book had mentioned it had to be cut from the root or otherwise it would be completely useless. 

The blood red petals swayed , knife cutting clean through its roots and you bubbled with pride. This certainly was a treat, a rare find to add to the new herb garden, the Witcher would be undoubtedly impressed. Your excitement was snuffed out in an instant when the blood-curdling howl echoed in the night.

“No.” You whispered, hands beginning to shake as you hastily stuffed the Winter Cherry into the already full satchel, nearly tripping over your own dress as another howl screamed into the now Twilight sky, blade still in hand. “No, no, no!” You continued as you made for the road, as if it was a safe haven from the gathering wolves. The sound of rustling dry grass began to double, triple, before you were keenly aware there was no getting out of this. Heart pounding in your ears you turned, oval eyes reflecting through yellowing foliage as the soft crunch of grass slowed, the animals circling in. 

“Come on you bastard.” You growled in your own way back, knowing there was no way out but like hell if you wouldn’t try your best to fight them off. As if responding to your threat the first one lept, jaws snapping and snarling as it went. Dodging to your left it missed your arm by just a hair, the hot breath of the beast tickling the hairs of a limb that could have easily been its next meal. 

The next time you weren’t so luckily, the second wolf snapping down hard on the skirt of your dress, yanking you almost completely over as it ripped and tore at the material. Swiping the small blade wildly the animal retreated, eyes still trained on your every movement. Heavy breaths left your dry mouth, adrenaline pumping through every vein as senses heightened. You were going to die. 

The third wolf was too quick, coming toward you from the side as you focused on the others. Its Black fur barreled towards you, ferocious teeth biting through your thick dress and into your thigh, ripping a shriek from your throat as it sunk its razor-like teeth into the meat of your leg. You swiped at the wolf, jutting the knife into the scruff of his neck as it whimpered and recoiled, but the damage had been done and now you were merely a game to the hungry canines. 

“FUCK OFF!” You howled, which startled them momentarily before the first one jumped you again, pushing you to the ground , shoving your fist into it’s open mouth just in time to keep it from getting a killing blow. Its fangs scrapped at your knuckles, sharp claws digging into your soft skin. A faint sound of a horse barely registered, knowing no matter how proficient the rider, there was no way of saving you. The only thing you could do was take one of the wolves down with you. The wolf atop you bit down, teeth sinking into the flesh of your arm as you let out a pained cry, its pack surprisingly absent. The cries you heard were not your own and soon the wolf that pinned you down with your fist in its mouth seemed dazed, drunk even, eyes glassy as the moon reflected off its dark eyes. It’s jaws relented, your blood now oozing from open wounds. Puzzled at first you seized your only chance, ramming the pathetic blade into the top of its skull, piercing thick pelt and bone. The wolf swayed, eyes rolling back as its blood soaked your hand, pushing it off just before it pooled over your already ruined garments. 

Your head was swimming, jolting up as you frantically searched for the other two wolves only to find an empty field and a man. 

A man with hair as silver as moonlight. 

Adrenaline left your body quickly, eyesight dotting with bright white before fading to black completely. 

It was all a blur, the hard motions of a horse galloping faded in and out for you, unconscious to the strong arms that encased you. 

You awoke with a start, instead of dry grass beneath your touch there were soft sheets instead. A bed? "Oh, you're awake." The deep rustling voice spoke from the corner , nearly startling you out of the bed. Everything hurt and you peered down at the bandage around your thigh soaked in blood. "How'd i-" you barely managed before the White Wolf intervened, "lucky for you I was on my way back here and heard you off in the distance. Witcher sense does wonders. Have to say you put up quite the fight.". Was that… praise? 

"Thank you." You managed, wincing as you sat up against the headboard, "how long was I out?" 

He shrugged with heavy shoulders, "Long enough to haul you back here give a few hours or so. It's well past midnight by now. What the hell were you doing in the middle of nowhere at nightfall?" He seemed irritated by that. 

You sighed, "getting herbs from the alchemist." You stated plainly, hoping he picked up your satchel, otherwise it would be all for naught. Warmth spreading across your cheeks realizing he had carried you unconsciously and rode all the way back to Corvo Bianco with those large hands around you. 

"You won't find an herb shop in a field." He spoke plainly but with just enough sarcasm for your brow to quirk. 

"Majordomo sent me into Beauclaire to get supplies for the herb garden you ordered. I found some Winter Cherry in the field and that's when I was attacked by wolves. Was that… a joke?" You should have been more formal, but seeing as you were laying in his bed with half your body bare, it seemed almost pointless to be.

He chuckled, "An attempt at one at least. Witchers have subdued emotions, call it a blessing and a curse." He sat back in the wooden chair he had propped in the corner, " Shame, Winter Cherry is useless unless-"

It was your turn to interrupt "Unless you cut it off at the roots." He looked to you with a hint of a smile. 

You gaped, so that's why he seemed so calm and collected. That was definitely something you weren't expecting. "I should have been quicker on the walk back. But I'm glad you were there, otherwise I might've had to kill all those wolves on my own." 

He let out a half laugh as did you, Geralt always appreciated a strong woman and you were fastly becoming more and more interesting to him with each passing moment. 

"Geralt." He muttered as he stood, metal from his armor clinking and the wood of the house creaking under his shifting weight. 

"Hm?" You asked inquisitively as he neared, drawing your legs closer , confused at what he was doing. 

"My name." He sat on the edge of the bed, removing his gloves, "I need to check those wounds.". 

You nodded, giving him permission to touch you, giving your name with a wince as his large warm hands unbound the bandage around your thigh. You watched Geralt transfixed, breath catching at just how high up his fingers traced since the bite had been dangerously close to your hip. He seemed to feel you tensing at sweeping touches , golden eyes looking up to yours with a muted smirk across such handsome features. "It tickles." You lied and he only let out a small puff of air that hinted at humored before continuing. It was amazing watching a Witcher work. He'd rooted through his belongings finding ingredients for the healing salve without needing any type of recipe. Casually mixing ingredients that, had you attempted, would have surely given you a headache. 

"So" your name rolling of his tongue made it hard to concentrate, "you're a bit of an alchemist?" He spoke casually as he transferred the salve into a large bit of wax paper. 

"Afraid not, I know but a few things from experiments and what little I've read while in Beauclaire." 

Geralt hummed at that, " Well it looks like you'll survive. I've made some salve that'll help heal the bite , but it's only enough for one or two days. Put it on in the evenings and when you run out come back. Maybe then I'll even teach you a trick or two." The last part made your heart leap as he rebandaged your wound, blood now completely stopped. "Thank you for saving my life." You said as you stood, leg in agony but unwilling to show any more sign of weakness. 

"I got you into this mess, only fair I should rescue you from it." Geralt replied coolly, eyes transfixed on your heart rate that had thumped harder as you stood. You were in pain but far too stubborn to show it. He liked that about you. 

"Goodnight Geralt."  
"Goodnight. " 

You turned to leave, hobbling across the main house stairs and towards your quarters which luckily weren't too far. The plants you'd brought back were already laid on in the garden and you thanked the gods that geralt had brought back the satchel so that your near death had not been for nothing. 

Finally in your quarters you bathed and added the salve , teeth clenching at the sting of it sanitizing the wound. You were pretty much asleep as soon as your head hit the pillow. 

Dreams emerged from the fog of your mind that night. Large scarred hands gently skating across your legs, pulling up your nightgown forcing a weak whimper from your throat. A deep rustling of a laugh accompanied with cat-like eyes as slightly chapped lips graced your skin. It was heaven , feeling the white beard scrape along your neck, sending you into a moaning fit. "Stop that, you're injured." His voice playfully mocked as you squirmed under him. 

…"Geralt" you awoke with his name on your lips. Eyes wide and hand slapped over your mouth you scanned the room. It was bright, so bright. Almost midday by the way the shadows casted along the floor of the small room. The biggest mistake was moving, which nearly had you wailing in pain from the tender wound. Removing the covers it had bled through only a little in the night , of which you were thankful. 

When finally dressed and on your way to the main house you waved off concerned workers as you hobbled by, far too tired to give them the entirety of the story of what happened the night before. Instead you stepped into the kitchen and shut the door with an exasperated sigh.


End file.
